In the Black Spaces

008: Shooting Gallery

The Cobra shuddered from bow to stern as a mass driver round clanged off its barriers, a glancing hit but still enough to send warning alarms screaming through the bridge. Hundreds of solid projectiles were hurtling through the void now as the Narvorian ships opened fire, their mass driver batteries creating a deadly web.

"Barriers holding!" Hooper yelped. "Ninety-eight percent."

"Torpedoes?" Wraia demanded as the cataphract lurched, swinging left then right, manoeuvring thrusters sending it on a punishing course that the inertial compensators could only do so much to mask.

"Targeting solutions plotted!" Gallagher barked, his face a mask of stony concentration as he directed the ship's weapons. "Locked and firing."

A dull, muffled thumping from below decks signalled the unleashing of the Cobra's first salvo of return fire. Trails of cobalt blue lit up the empty space between the two sides as the torpedoes were blasted from their tubes, their sensors latching onto the enemy signatures.

Ahead of them the Merlin performed a hull-wrenching turn to avoid a broadside of mass-shot, and a moment later let loose its own ordnance.

The smaller Narvorian ships closed ranks around the light cruiser, short range point defence batteries boiling into life. Wraia watched, fingers tightening against her armrests as sprays of crimson began blanketing the nearby space. Most of the torpedoes went up in fireballs as they were swatted by the defences, but a few squeaked through.

Two exploded against the defences of the Narvorian cruiser, but the bigger vessel's thick armour withstood the onslaught. Fire washed over its hull, leaving dark scorched smears behind. Not all of their adversaries were so lucky, though.

"Direct hit!" Gallagher announced triumphantly.

She saw it. One of the smaller Narvorian defenders went listing drunkenly to starboard, a crater in its flank from where one of the Cobra's torpedoes had slammed headlong into it. Lights flickered; its engines sputtered weakly.

There wasn't much time to congratulate themselves, however. The other Narvorian ships came powering forward, mass drivers hurling fresh, furious barrages into space.

"Continue evasive manoeuvres," Wraia snapped. "Keep us pointed at them, Mr. Ratcliffe. Let's not give a bigger target than we have to."

"Aye, ma'am!"

"One Navorian defender badly damaged," Hooper interjected. "Sensors show its power down to forty-three percent. Main offensive batteries offline."

"Mr. Gallagher?"

"Bow tubes reloading. Thirty seconds."

"Ship-to-ship, ma'am," Briar exclaimed. "I have Commander Gueller."

"Hells!" Wraia snarled as another mass-shot round smacked off the Cobra's barriers, this one making the whole ship shake violently. "Damage report?!"

"Minor damage along port axis," Hooper blurted, fingers flashing over her control console. "One railgun station out of action. Hull integrity nominal."

Wraia thumped the comms button on her armrest. "Clay here. Go ahead!" She couldn't keep the anger out of her voice. The last thing she needed right now was to be micromanaged in the middle of a battle.

"Pull in on my flank, Commander!" Gueller barked. "We're making an attack run to finish off that ship."

"Sir? The cruiser-,"

"We have to eliminate the picket ships," he cut her off irately. "Single shot torpedoes won't make a dent in that armour. Now pull into formation – now!"